Just a wee little fan-fic I wrote up on the spot about the Tournament we'll be entering in ;P

May 18th, 3049. The time of the hour was closing near, the hum of the dropships engines roared. They were going to be dropped from orbit soon, and time was of the essence. 12 mercenaries from the combined forces of mercenary teams "Fancymen" and "Beerwarriors" were in this ship, preparing for a mission for which they might not return from..."

"Man, I don't know about this shit. We've faced bigger jobs before, we took out rogue mercs, quelled insurrections, hell we even got acknowledged for holding back and allowing the royal family of House Davion to escape, when Steiner forces marched in. But this new job? I'm not feeling too sure about this..."

"Quit your bitching, we're in it for the money and the grand prize. You've fought in Solaris VII, you've come out on top before, why is your tail between your legs now of all times? Get your shit together for fucks sake. I don't know about you man, but I came here to win. And personally, those fucking Italian mercs can go ---"

The speakers on the dropship begun to sound off and sirens blared "ALL MECHWARRIORS TO THEIR RESPECTIVE MECHS. REPEAT, ALL MECHWARRIORS MUST ENTER THEIR MECHS EFFECTIVE IMMEDIATELY. ETA TO COMBAT ZONE IS LESS THAN 3 MINUTES. ALL MECHWARRIORS PREPARE FOR H.A.L.O. DROP"

And now, as the brave 12 souls of Team FancyBeer got in their respective mechs, drop commander RedSail had only these words to say to his mechwarriors.

"Gentleman you are being sent in via dropship to the combat zone. Now I realize not all of you have had hands on experience ... and frankly none of us have faced a situation quite like this one before.

"And I would not be asking anyone of you to take this leap .. if I had not complete faith in your ability to succeed. Your courage will never be more needed than it is today."

Soon, these 12 brave men would face off in a lethal tournament the likes from which the Inner Sphere has never seen before. The Grand Prize of many mechs, c-bills and the reputation of the deadliest mercenary team attracted the joint team of FancyBeer, yet they were not alone in this quest. Many others from across the Inner Sphere and the Periphery were attracted to this call of fame and fortune. Yet none were prepared for the challenges they would face in the incoming week.

The drop commander's words hung in my ears. I'd wondered how much of that speech was sincerity or simple manipulation? In the end it didn't matter: all the help we'd have on that drop was standing in the room so the faster we could come to grips with it the better. We'd need each other to be our best to stand a chance.

I took a hard look at my lance, a good bunch of boys I've spread much destruction and heartache with all over the Inner Sphere. We'd won hard, lost hard, and made our enemies pay for every inch of soil they took from us ... well from the house that paid us any way. The Fancymen were starting to make a name for themselves which is exactly what brought us there that day.

Merc life isn't for everyone and only a few of us were devout enough to care what side won. For me as long as the food was hot, the battles one sided and the bonuses large I couldn't care less who the contract came from. I knew we could handle ourselves on a small scale sortie but we were 36 mechs away from our prize. I'd have been lying if I didn't have concerns.

Then there were the others.

It's been my credo to not drop with anyone I couldn't drink under the table for obvious reasons. These guys could not only drink me under the table but one night I swear they drank me straight through the floor. Well, I remember looking up at them from a prone position a lot that night in any case.

They seemed good enough, them being like minded individuals out to cause some trouble, but how we would work together was up to the fates. We were going up against pros; Houses with unlimited resources and the time in to have honed their lances to a fine, sharp, point. We, on the other hand, were a bunch of privateers and outcasts being asked to do the impossible.

And so, as the brave Mechwarriors began the pre drop check, ensuring every system was optimal and working, Heavy lance commander call sign "RaKa" began to mutter some words of hope and inspiration to his fellow men

"Listen up ladies! We've run the simulations on this planet, practiced the tactics and ensured we are combat operational. We've faced against the Inner Spheres finest on Solaris VII, and we've rose on top time and time again against impossible odds. I would be lying to you if I said I didn't feel anxious and a bit of fear for the situation we find ourselves in. But know this, whatever your motives are for volunteering to compete today, know you are the finest Mechwarrior pilots I've had the pleasure to drop with! Now, let's give them hell!"

The bay doors of the drop ship began to open, and the vacuum of space flooded the room. They would soon face the enemy. Then, their commander RedSail spoke life into the speakers and ushered his last words to his Mechwarriors as they departed for battle...

Attention all Mechwarriors, prepare for the H.A.L.O drop. I repeat, prepare to go feet first into the combat zone. You've run the simulations and practiced. I know you all will fight like men. Some of you may not return, realize this, but this is your moment to write a passage in the books of history. Good luck and godspeed to you all.

Inside my head, as I prepared my Cataphract-3D and readied the emergency jumpjets for ignition, I held onto what comforted me most in battle. A slug from a browning machine gun found in most light mechs. I had almost met my death to this very bullet 10 years ago serving under House Davion, and I knew I had to be steadfast in this battle, not only for me, but for my men...